


Spoils of war

by humlie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Detective Story, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humlie/pseuds/humlie
Summary: Amidst widespread discontent about indecently modest contributions of sentenced war criminals to the reparations fund, Aurors Harry and Ron take on a murder case that brings them straight to the heart of public dissatisfaction - Draco Malfoy. Harry stands conflicted between the whole world being convinced of Malfoy's guilt and his inner instinct advocating in favour of the man's redemption, just as it did during the trials.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. (Prologue) Echoes of the Past

May had just started with the summer glimpsing through the chilly air April had left behind. A man sitting in an armchair sipped on firewhisky, sunrays warming his skin. Birds sang cheerfully outside a nearby window to the tune of a violin resonating from a radio box situated on a nearby coffee table. The man smiled lightly whilst bathing in the sun, gesturing with a finger to the rhythm. The song went quiet, and he raised the glass for another sip.  
A man’s voice came through the radio. ‘Welcome back. This is the annual broadcast in memory of the Battle of Hogwarts, and my name is Percival Atkins. Thank you for staying with us after the short break.' He paused. 'Ladies and gentlemen, we have entered the penultimate segment of our broadcast, with Mr Harry Potter joining us for a talk about his recollection of the war. Yet again, I would like to give a warm welcome to Mr Potter.’  
‘Again, thank you for having me, Mr Atkins.’ A different, softer voice followed the introductions, this one very familiar to the listener.  
‘Mr Potter, you have a reputation for rarely making appearances in public, which makes us all the more grateful for you agreeing to join us today.’ The journalist was courteous, although a hint of complaint broke through the politeness.  
‘My pleasure.’ There was a short, awkward pause. ‘Although it may be unhealthy to dwell in the past, we must remember the sacrifice that secured our future.’ Harry’s voice was stiff, it seemed like he was trying to convince himself that it was a good decision to accept the invitation. He was clearly uncomfortable, yet doing his best to sound politely.  
‘Yes, undoubtedly.’ Percival replied warmly. His relaxed voice strongly contrasted with Harry’s shyness. ‘You have given us an invaluable insight into how you experienced the war and its shortcomings through your career as an auror, but I was hoping we could finish the interview with some implications of the conflict that have been at the heart of the debate recently.’  
‘I will try my best, but I have been focused on work, and politics isn’t really my area of interest, so there might not be any point in asking me…’ Harry tried to find his way out of the topic.  
‘Your humility has no boundaries, Mr Potter, but I must insist. I doubt that our listeners would forgive me if I didn’t use the opportunity.’ The journalist laughed softly.  
'I see.' Harry answered resignedly.  
‘Now, the Ministry has recently issued a special report on war reparations paid over the past two years in connection to numerous convictions along with a forecast of the outstanding amount that is due to the families of the victims that will be paid out in the future. As I am sure we are all aware, the report has caused an uproar given how wealthy families associated with the Death Eaters are and how low low the value of assets they have reported to own is.’  
‘I have heard about this, yes.’ Harry confirmed stiffly.  
‘This turn of events leaves an especially bad taste in the mouth, as we are still dealing with an economic slowdown. Our society has been struggling with high rates of unemployment, homelessness, criminal activity, emigration and alcoholism. Another significant factor in the discussion has been the fact that the Death Eaters had at a later stage of the conflict infiltrated the Gringott’s Bank to the extent that the Ministry officials have been unable to classify any records made over the year preceding the Battle of Hogwarts as ‘reliable’. Additionally, numerous allegations of theft have been made against the Bank, because many vaults were emptied over that period, although we must not forget that goblins were also persecuted by the Death Eaters. In these instances the victims were meant to be reimbursed out of the reparations fund should they be able to prove their claims by meeting the Ministry’s thresholds.’  
‘With all due respect, I am sure that the Ministry’s lawyers are working hard to solve this matter, and it wouldn’t be helpful for me to berate them over issues that I don’t have a proper understanding of…’ Harry tried to protest against dwelling further into the topic to no avail, as Atkins continued:  
‘The reason I am bringing this up with you is that it has since been discovered that the Malfoy family is at the top of the list of the so-called ‘reparations avoiders’, as what they declared to own was little more than their manor, which, by the way, had all valuable assets such as works of art removed before the end of the war. They have been under scrutiny for exploiting a variety of legal instruments, predominantly trusts, owing to which they officially hold no legal title to their assets, to secure continued enjoyment of their wealth. Now, Mr Potter, it so happens that you spoke in the defence of Mrs and Mr Malfoy Jr at their trials after the conviction of the head of the family, Lucius Malfoy.’  
‘That’s correct…’ Harry replied shortly but continued when the interviewer waited for further comments. ‘If it wasn’t for them, I would not be sitting here today, and this is precisely what I said in front of the Wizengamont.’  
‘Of course, we have all read the reports, and the trials were broadly covered by the press.’ Atkins paused. ‘In your opinion, do you feel that the Malfoys have abused your trust and goodwill by going to extreme lengths to avoid recompensating the victims of Lucius Malfoy, one of the principal Death Eaters?’  
An uncomfortable silence ensued.  
‘Let me ask you this instead, Mr Potter. Have you remained in touch with the Malfoys after the trials?’  
‘No, not at all.’ Harry replied cautiously.  
‘What would you say to them, and especially to Mr Malfoy, an accomplice to the murder of Albus Dumbledore…’  
‘He wasn’t found guilty of the offences he was charged with.’ Harry interrupted him.  
‘Yes, although the verdict was due to mitigating circumstances, not for lack of evidence.’ Atkins addressed Harry’s abrupt interjection. It was clear he did not agree with the outcome of the trial. ‘If I may finish my question, what would you say to them if you had a chance to speak now?’  
A sigh followed. ‘As I said, we are not in touch, and it would be out of place for me to tell them anything on the matter.’  
‘I see.’ Atkins said resignedly, changing his strategy immediately. ‘How about the trustees who have been under increasing pressure from the media and the society alike to discontinue their financial arrangements with the family?’  
‘I don’t follow…’ Harry sounded uncertain.  
‘For instance, just two month ago customers started boycotting the Rutledge Distilleries’ products. The company reported significant losses in revenue last month, which led Howard Rutledge to publicly disconnect himself from the family by announcing that he is actively working on renouncing the legal title to allegedly a very large sum of money that he has been managing for their benefit.’ Atkins stated. ‘The vast majority of commentators suggest that it is in fact a moral duty of the trustees to disclose the assets they own for the benefit of the Malfoys. They advocate for the Ministry’s intervention to redirect those funds to the reparation fund. Would you agree with them?’  
‘I don’t…’ Harry started, but Atkins was not accepting of avoidant answers anymore.  
He jumped onto the next question. ‘They consensually offer their services to families that have been ordered by the Wizengamont to give up a proportion of their assets to compensate the victims of You Know Who, the man who they had pledged allegiance to. Don’t you find that inappropriate, Mr Potter?’  
‘If you put it this way, I suppose…’ Harry said hesitantly.  
‘In that case, would you like to use this opportunity to request both families and people involved in the blatant theft of money righteously owed to the families of the war victims to reconsider their actions?’ Atkins drilled the man mercilessly.  
‘I…’ Harry exhaled trying to gather the right words. ‘It has not been long since the war, and for the most of us the memories are still fresh. I do feel bad for anyone who suffered a loss, and I too have lost family and friends.’  
Atkins murmured in approval.  
‘That said,’ Harry continued. ‘I don’t feel comfortable with fuelling people’s anger. I would sleep much better leaving this matter to Ministry officials, who I am sure will resolve it objectively, and I don’t think that the general public is ready to refrain from appeal to emotions in this discussion. I am no expert in the law of trusts and war crimes, so that’s all I can offer you today, Mr Atkins.’  
There was a pause again as the men were likely staring at each other tensely, waiting for the other one to give in.  
‘Alright.' Atkins sounded dissatisfied with Harry’s answer. ‘I am afraid that we have run out of time for this segment. Thank you for the discussion, Mr Potter. Dear listeners, please be patient with us as we pause the broadcast for a moment before we continue with a live performance by Celestina Warbeck in celebration of the victory at the Battle of Hogwarts.’  
Violin sounds filled the room again, and the man raised the glass to his mouth one last time before making his way out with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.


	2. Built himself a cage

‘Well, you should do this more often.’ Ron said in an overly sarcastic tone whilst putting a copy of the Daily Prophet on Harry’s desk.  
Harry Potter Refuses to Support the Campaign for Recompensating War Victims The heading caught Harry’s eyes immediately along with a picture of him trying to escape the reporters that had gathered in front of the radio studio.  
‘They describe your statements as tasteless twice, which is ridiculous. If anyone was tasteless it was this Atkins who has forsaken the last thread of professionalism… and on the anniversary of the war at that.’ Hermione furrowed her brows in annoyance.  
‘I don’t see how you hadn’t prepped him before going on air. I mean, it was pretty obvious it would come up, I can’t go an hour without hearing about this mess.’ Ron teased her.  
It has become a frequent occurrence for Hermione to visit their shared office ever since she also got employed by the Ministry, although most of the time it was just the two of them bickering and Harry listening. He found it to be a nostalgia-induced instinct of the two, and so he rarely protested, even though he rarely had anything to add.  
‘I offered…’ Hermione started.  
‘I don’t need a personal assistant, and Hermione has enough on her plate.’ Harry said and saw his friend opening her mouth, so he quickly stopped her: ‘You focus on your work. If you feel like you have too much free time on your hands, feel free to do my laundry. We have been swarmed here lately, and this is my last wearable shirt.’  
‘The ‘wearable’ part being argumentative.’ Ron snickered at a small coffee stain on his semi-ironed shirt.  
‘Look at him talk. Do you even know where the laundry machine is in our flat?’ Hermione cut him off. ‘Although, in a convoluted way that leads me to the suggestion that perhaps life would be a tad easier if you socialised a bit more and eventually found yourself a partner.’  
‘Are you suggesting that I get myself a wife so she can do laundry for me?’ Harry looked at her amused, throwing the newspaper into the bin.  
‘They cook, too, you know.’ Ron added. He was browsing through the same issue of the Daily Prophet Harry had just discarded, and before Hermione could bite back, Ron exclaimed:  
‘Flint!’ He raised a fresh issue of the daily prophet from his desk. ‘What is it? Third sighting in the last two weeks? I’ve seen so many photographs of him lately that you could convince me he tips the journalists off whenever he leaves whatever shit hole he’s been living in’  
For the first few years of their Auror career, Harry and Ron were mainly hunting down remaining Death Eaters. After the substantial majority was caught, their work became varied, but some of the fugitives remained on the loose. Flint was among them, and his case was special, because he was rather arrogant in his ‘hiding.’ Whereas experience has taught Harry that the unaccounted for Death Eaters usually moved abroad and laid low, Marcus Flint had been resurfacing periodically as if to spite them, and usually in London at that. But after a year of no luck, Ron and Harry were moved on to more pressing cases.  
‘He is not ours to worry about anymore.’ Harry sighed.  
‘Sure, sure.’ Ron replied sadly at the thought they never managed to catch the man, when a voice resonated from a wooden radiophone installed on Harry’s desk:  
‘7 Alford Street, Report of Death.’ A female voice announced in the very same, expressionless manner it announced floor numbers in the Ministry’s elevators.  
‘See you at home for dinner?’ Hermione reminded Ron over Harry’s head.  
‘As long as you cook it.’ Ron winked at her, earning a sigh.  
‘Alright you two, no time to sign the divorce papers.’ Harry stopped the squabble before it could start, and the two men walked off to the Auror Department’s apparition point, leaving displeased Hermione behind.  
* * *  
At the crime scene they were greeted by a junior auror, Billie, who was speaking about initial findings a little over-excitedly. Harry was amused about how Billie was over the moon to be their assistant, especially that when he thought about it, Harry and Ron did not have significantly more experience than the man who started his career just a year after them.  
‘The victim’s name is Harold Rutledge, the cause of death was self-administered poison added to the man’s firewhisky, initial exam indicated he’s been dead for a few hours. His wife, Cécile, had found him in the morning, just before the housekeeper came in to work and called us.’ Billie took a breath to continue. ‘No sign of forceful entry; all wards intact. We ran a quick inquiry with the travel people, the property has been properly registered for restricted access to the floo network. They have five incoming sources in their records utilised in the last 2 months.’  
‘Make sure we request the Wizengamont to lift the privacy restrictions as soon as possible, we need to know precisely who and when used to plant the poison.’ Harry instructed him.  
‘Do we know anything about the locations linked to this house?’ Ron asked.  
‘Yes, one for the housekeeper and another one for their son, Robert. He is 14 and currently resides at Hogwarts.’ Billie looked at papers in his hand. They were marked with the seal of the Department for Apparition and Magical Travel. ‘The housekeeper too. Her name is Bethany Goldeen. She has been with the Rutledge family for decades.’  
‘Where is she now?’ Harry asked.  
‘She is having tea in the kitchen. We gave Mrs Rutledge a calming potion, but she is still rather shaken, so it might be best to talk to Ms Goldeen first.’ Billie informed. ‘She is about 70 years old.’  
‘Anything else?’ Harry asked with his hand on the doorknob.  
‘Mrs Ruttledge has been very adamant that her husband fell victim to the smear campaign in the media about that trust he held for Draco Malfoy. She also mentioned Marcus Flint.’  
‘I thought the victim made a public announcement about getting rid of the trust?’ Harry recalled what Atkins told him during the radio interview, feeling uncomfortable at the mere recollection of that experience, while Ron mouthed to him ‘Flint’. Harry could swear he saw sparkles in his eyes.  
‘I think so.’ Billie nodded.  
‘Thanks Billie, good work.’ Harry smiled at him.  
‘Okay, let’s get on with this, shall we?’ Ron walked past his colleagues, opening the door.  
The house was spacious with warm tapestry draped over its walls, wooden floors and traditionally designed furniture. It would have had a homely feel to it if it was not for the ample number of Ministry law enforcement officials working their way through routine procedures. They entered a spacious kitchen filled with fresh vegetables and spices growing in flowerpots.  
‘Good morning, Ms Goldeen.’ Ron greeted her with Harry nodding politely at his side. ‘I am Auror Weasley and this is Auror Potter, we will be conducting the case.’  
The lady was indeed very old, but she seemed lively. She stood up when they entered the room and bowed slightly greeting them.  
‘We would like to start straight away if you don’t mind.’ Ron gave the lady a moment to object, but she nodded sadly in agreement.  
‘Were you in the house when the crime was committed?’ Ron continued.  
‘No. I don’t live in the house, dear. When I came to work at seven, Mrs Rutledge had already found her husband in the living room. She was crying so violently she didn’t even notice me come in. I was the one who summoned the aurors.’  
‘I see. From what I understand, you’ve been working with Rutledges for a long time. Is there anyone who would want to harm Mr Rutledge?’  
‘Mr Rutledge has been very anxious lately because of all the correspondence he has been receiving. I would sometimes hide some of it if I could do so before he saw the mail, because it was very unhealthy for him.’  
‘What kind of correspondence?’ Harry asked.  
‘Very unpleasant, Mr Potter. Unspeakable, anonymous threats.’ She looked at him apologetically as if she was ashamed for their senders.  
‘Ms Goldeen, Mr Rutledge was found in the house, so it could not have been someone without connections to the family. Could you tell us - to your best knowledge - who has access to the floo network?’ Ron continued.  
‘Well, there is Mr and Mrs Rutledge and me. There is also their son, Robert. There are some friends and more distant family, but all of them haven’t been visiting because Mr Rutledge has placed himself in isolation since he issued that statement. Master Draco also has access, he used to visit about once a week to enjoy wine with Mrs Rutledge, but since the whole affair with cutting him off started he stopped coming by.’ Ms Goldeen explained.  
‘Draco as in Draco Malfoy?’ Ron almost spat the surname.  
‘Yes, that’s the one.’ She nodded. ‘There is also Mrs Rutledge’s nephew, Clément, but he lives in France, and we haven’t hosted him for about a month now.’  
‘Are you aware of a way to contact Clément?’ Ron asked.  
‘I wouldn’t. Ever since the war he has been travelling back and forth between England and France. He seems to be very good friends with Master Draco, though, he might be able to tell you more about his current whereabouts.’ She offered.  
Ron looked at Harry in annoyance with the imminent encounter with Malfoy.  
‘How would you describe his appearance, Ms Goldeen?’ Harry took over.  
‘Well... He is tall with thick, dark hair, fair complexion and an athletic built. I suppose you could call him handsome.’ She described.  
‘Is he around our age?’ Harry asked.  
’Sure.’ She replied.  
‘About Mr Rutledge’s behaviour, Ms Goldeen…’ Ron continued as Harry was taking a note of Clément. ‘Could you elaborate on him being anxious? What was he doing? I don’t mean to disturb you, but could it be possible at all that it was a suicide due to the pressure he had been facing for a prolonged period of time?’  
‘He had a lot to prove, you know. The Malfoy scandal got to his head, but I don’t think he would have harmed himself.’ She told them. ‘And not in such a horrible way…’  
‘What do you mean about having a lot to prove, Miss?’ Ron encouraged her.  
‘Mr Rutledge was not well born. The Rutledges might have relaxed their ways and are no longer a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but they value their traditions. Mrs Rutledge’s parents arranged the marriage with a promising, albeit half-blood, entrepreneur, hoping for him to continue the legacy of Rutledge distilleries.’  
‘It was an arranged marriage?’ Ron asked surprised. ‘Mrs Rutledge seems to be devastated by her husband’s death.’  
‘She spent 30 years with the man and gave him a child.’ The old witch pointed out. ‘They might not have said the vows in love, but they have grown fond of each other over time.’  
‘Did Mrs Rutledge not want to take over the distilleries?’ Harry asked, suspiciously sounding like Hermione.  
‘You, young people, have enjoyed your freedoms since you can remember.’ She looked at them, but her eyes lingered on Harry longer, the man cursing the Daily Prophet in his head. ‘I am afraid nobody in this family would have asked this question over 40 years ago, my child. Her parents cultivated her interest in the business like the family did over the generations, but it did not amount to much more than imbuing family values.’  
‘In that case… Have you ever noticed any inclinations that Mrs Rutledge may carry a grudge over being moved away from the family business?’ Harry asked.  
‘Mr Potter, I am happy to answer your questions, but I have served this family for nearly thrice as long as you have been alive.’ The lady looked at him with a sad smile. ‘I would like it to be noted that I am convinced of Mrs Rutledge’s innocence.’  
Ron elbowed him discreetly to watch what he was implying.  
‘No, I do not think so.’ The lady continued, but she still seemed a little offended. ‘She has always fulfilled her duties owed to the family gracefully. Not once have I heard her raise voice at her husband.’  
‘Alright.’ Ron cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Ms Goldeen. We appreciate your assistance for now.’  
‘You’re welcome, dear.’ She smiled at him but just nodded coolly at Harry.  
They went over to the sitting room, which was lit up and full of aurors.  
‘Mrs Rutledge.’ Billie approached a woman in her early fifties. She tried to smile in acknowledgment, but a grimace formed on her face instead. ‘This is Auror Weasley and Auror Potter. They will be conducting this case.’  
Harry nodded at her, hoping to look reassuringly.  
‘Thank you, sirs…’ She looked at the two sadly, looking away. Harry noticed the corpse. A thin layer of foil was floating just above it, but it had been left untouched for their arrival.  
‘Where is that object?’ Ron, as always, was very straight to the point.  
Mrs Ruttledge pointed towards the centre of the room. Harry noticed shattered glass on the floor by a coffee table, remains of which indicated it was a whisky tumbler. Some of the firewhisky had sunk into the carpet. A barely open bottle of said alcohol stood on the coffee table, its label bearing Ruttledge family insignia. The victim was lying by the glass, and Ron had uncovered the body slightly by now. Mrs Ruttledge gasped, covered her mouth, and Harry could see tears streaming down her face as she was turning her gaze away.  
Ron looked at his partner in discontent as the latter approached the body. Harry was not bothered by the looks of it. He was barely bothered by anything those days, but that was another story, and he had a corpse to examine. The man’s eyes were missing, his limbs bent unnaturally. Some of his body was black and resembled coal. It was reminiscent of the state in which Dumbledore’s hand was during the last months of the professor’s life.  
‘Is this how you found him?’ Harry asked the woman without looking at her. She clearly was shaken.  
Something between a sob and a cough followed, as she tried to compose herself.  
‘Yes.’ She replied. ‘He didn’t scream.’  
‘Mrs Rutledge.’ Harry started, clearing his throat. ‘Do you know of anyone who would wish death upon your late husband?’  
‘Plenty.’ She looked at them bitterly. ‘My husband had been bombarded with death threats for months prior to his death. But I do not know any names apart form one. Marcus Flint threatened my husband about a month ago.’  
‘Could we see the letter from him?’ Harry requested.  
‘You cannot, because there is no letter.’ She explained. ‘He paid him a visit at work.’  
‘Was there any history between your husband and Flint?’ Ron asked.  
‘Not much, but Harold told me on that one occasion he called him a blood traitor and promised he would pay for turning away from the cause.’ She shook her head. ‘He said that Flint had escaped before he could do anything, because an employee knocked on the door to his office.’  
‘I see.’ Ron said.  
‘About the hate mail… Did the threats not stop after his public announcement that he would renounce Malfoys’ assets?’ Harry asked.  
‘The stream might have thinned, but they kept coming.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Harold blocked owl access to the house, but he was still exposed to it whenever he left the house until he stopped leaving at all.’  
‘Mrs Rutledge…’ Ron tried to pick words carefully. ‘Your husband publicly announced that he would cut ties with the Malfoys. Would you agree there was a motive for them to retaliate?’  
‘Draco would never.’ She looked at him straight in the eyes. ‘He is such a sensitive boy, too. The first person to console me when the media started targeting our family. He is a part of it, especially over the past two years with Narcissa away in France. In fact, he has been suffering through the same lynch my husband did for much longer.’  
‘And what did your cousin, Clément, think of the entire situation?’ Ron asked, and the woman was visibly surprised.  
‘I didn’t realise you know about Clément.’ She said. ‘Well, he is welcome whenever he needs accommodation, but he hasn’t been around much. Last time I spoke to him over a month ago he said he had some matters to attend to before returning to France, but I don’t know if he’s still in the country.’  
Ron scribbled in his notepad, sketching the timeline.  
‘Mrs Rutledge, we have no records of who entered your flat through the fireplace that night due to the privacy regulations at the Ministry, but we have the number and timeframe of connections made.’ Harry said while examining the documents Billie had handed over to him. ‘There were two made in morning and afternoon hours.’  
‘That would be my visit to Diagon Alley. I did some shopping for our son’s school supplies.’ She explained. ‘Harold was against me leaving the house, so he insisted that I bring Bethany along.’  
‘Right.’ Harry wrote it down. ‘Now, there are another two entries in the evening the day before. Somebody had come in at 10pm and left just 8 minutes later. Did you hear anything at that time?’  
‘Oh.’ Mrs Rutledge gasped, raising hands to her mouth. ‘No, I must have been upstairs. Harold would always read in the sitting room until late at night. Rarely did we ever go to sleep together, I would usually drift away before he made his way to bed.’  
‘We understand, but who could it have been? Aside from yourself, Ms Goldeen, your son, Draco Malfoy and Clément, was there anyone else with authorisation to use your fireplace?’  
‘There’s family and friends, but they haven’t been visiting much, because my husband has been in isolation since Flint threatened him.’ She replied sadly.  
Ron looked at Harry, one eyebrowed raised.  
‘Is there any way we could get a hold of Clément?’ Harry asked.  
‘Sorry, I only have his French address.’ She told them, and then added when she saw their raised eyebrows: ‘When he contacts me from England, I use his owl to write back to him.’  
‘Does he share your surname?’ Ron pressed on.  
‘That’s correct.’ She said.  
‘Before we finish.’ Harry said quickly when he saw Ron putting his coat on. ‘I am afraid that it is necessary for us to collect all correspondence received at this house over the past two months.’  
‘Yes, that young auror told me to put everything in one place.’ She nodded and stood up.  
‘Thank you, Mrs Rutledge.’ Ron raised from his armchair as the widow was fetching a parcel made up of paper from a nearby stand. She handed it over to Harry. ‘We will contact you when we know more, but don’t hesitate to contact us if you recall any other details that may be helpful.’

* * *

‘I will ask Billie to contact the French Ministry and ask for anything they may have on that Clément guy.’ Ron said when they finally returned to their office. ‘I don’t like the ghost-like feel of him.’  
‘Good idea.’ Harry nodded as he was taking his coat off. ‘I wonder how Flint managed to get in and out of Rutledge’s office unnoticed considering he must have restricted apparition there too by then.’  
‘Let’s ask the secretary.’ Ron suggested. ‘The one who interrupted them. I’ll go ask Billie to do the footwork.’  
‘The art of delegating.’ Harry grinned at him, unwrapping letters Mrs Rutledge had handed over, dividing them into two piles, at the sight of which Ron reluctantly took one.  
‘I’ll grab a coffee on the way back.’ Ron shrugged at them and left to look for Billie.  
It was not until two hours into meticulous examination of each letter that involved casting revealing charms, when Harry’s attention spiked. Dear Harold, the letter began, your recent efforts to ostracise Draco have caused him great upset, but your subsequent actions might harm us all.  
‘Ron. Listen to this.’ Harry called to his friend, who was also buried in paper. He continued to read the last few sentences of the letter out loud. ‘I regret you did not listen to Cécile’s advice. I am afraid you are not leaving me much choice in the matter. I will see you soon. Clément.’  
‘A threat then.’ Ron looked at him.  
‘He writes about something Mr Rutledge did after making that statement.’ Harry continued. ‘Your subsequent actions might harm us all.’  
‘Subsequent actions?’ Ron frowned. ‘Is he talking about the business? He might have some interest seeing how he is family. Oh, maybe he would have inherited the distilleries if it wasn’t for the family picking a husband for their daughter?’  
‘Maybe. About the business though, by disassociating himself from the Malfoys, Rutledge managed to mitigate loss to the distilleries, right?’ Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to make news articles from the past couple of months resurface in his head.  
‘I think their sales have gone up.’ Ron agreed as he was looking through a briefing file Billie had compiled before going home. He caught a glimpse of his watch. ‘Hey, let’s get back to this tomorrow, promised ‘Mione I would be back for dinner.’  
‘Sure, go ahead, I will be out soon too.’ Harry nodded.  
‘Hey, Harry.’ Ron stopped in the door threshold. ‘Meet me in front of Malfoy’s first thing in the morning. The address is in the briefing file, let’s get this over with as soon as we can.’  
‘See you there.’ Harry stretched on his uncomfortable chair. He was rather looking forward to that.


	3. In a gilded cage

Harry and Ron had apparated in front of a small chateau, making their way to Draco Malfoy’s the very next morning. Harry realised that the man would be the primary suspect in everyone's eyes. The interview with Atkins was a cherry on top of what he had seen in the media over the past months. Regardless of what Malfoy had or had not done, Harry was in silent agreement with Mrs Rutledge that the man had been lynched constantly over the years. He had considered summoning Malfoy to their office for an initial inquiry, but the man’s appearance in the Auror department the day after the murder would have many implications. To Harry’s surprise, there were protesters outside the property, some had even tents installed. He caught a glimpse of a banner that turned from saying 'Justice for victims' to 'Death to war criminals.'  
They got through a spacious garden and climbed their way up to the door, where they were greeted by a house elf. They did not need to go far to reach their destination, but the corridor they were passing through seemed to extend itself with every step Harry took. He could feel the blood pumping in his veins, its noise deafening their footsteps. Overwhelmed with anticipation, he was startled when he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder.  
'You okay?' He asked with caution. 'You went all pale.'  
'Yeah.' He tried to sound at ease.  
The elf came to his rescue. She stopped having led them to a spacious, well-lit office with two armchairs facing a large, wooden desk, behind which sat Draco Malfoy. Harry could tell his garments were of high quality, silver embroidery catching eye on dark material. He looked rather relaxed. His face seemed to never had seen a wrinkle, except for the faint line on his forehead Harry had remembered from Hogwarts. He was sitting comfortably, his elbows resting on upholstered armrests. No wonder that to the media he looked nothing but guilty and boasting about it.  
‘Potter, Weasley.’ Malfoy raised from behind the desk, nodded in greeting and pointed at the two armchairs in front of him.  
The elf excused herself, and Harry took a seat, but Ron kept his distance from behind the armchairs.  
‘May I offer you a drink?’ He looked suggestively at a cabinet filled to its edges with bottles of amber-like liquid. Many of them bore the Rutledge family insignia.  
‘We are conducting the Rutledge case and you have been named a suspect.’ Ron informed him bluntly. ‘You are expected to answer to all of our inquiries and possible summons to the Ministry, and you may not leave the country. That includes visits to your mother in France. We also expect you to fully cooperate in the investigation. In the event you do not cooperate, you will be brought in immediately. ’  
‘Named a suspect by you or them?’ Malfoy waved an issue of the Daily Prophet lazily, smirking at Ron.  
‘I don’t think you understand that our visit is a courtesy.’ Ron looked at him with distaste. ‘It could be easily arranged for you to see us at the Ministry.’  
‘Dreadful.’ Malfoy brought a cigarette to his mouth and lit it.  
‘You smoke?’ Harry asked surprised.  
‘Very perceptive of you, Potter, I am glad my taxes were put to good use in your Auror training.’ The blonde chuckled, exhaling smoke into the air. He looked at him with amusement, and Harry sighed in annoyance.  
‘Don’t think your witty remarks are helping you.’ Ron warned him, he was losing his patience. Malfoy’s eyes wandered to his stubborn gaze, and he frowned.  
‘Very well then, consider me informed.’ Their suspect raised the cigarette once again and looked away into the window. ‘What sort of cooperation are we talking about?’  
‘For now, we need you to answer some initial questions.’ Harry said. The man nodded slowly, so he continued: ‘When was the last time you talked to Mr Rutledge?’  
‘Three days after he issued that statement that any form of association with my name defiles his own.’ Malfoy scoffed.  
‘Two months ago, then.’ Harry noted. He tried to disregard the bitter tone of the man’s voice. ‘Can you go through what was said during your last meeting for us?’  
‘Nothing you haven’t already read in press.’ Malfoy shrugged. ‘That he would be taking steps to get out of the trust and not to contact him. He said he would send me a letter regarding the money he held for me. He told me not to contact Cécile.’  
‘What is your relationship with Cécile Rutledge exactly?’ Ron asked.  
‘Friendship.’ Malfoy smiled at him. ‘She made sure I had everything I needed after I returned from France without my mother, offered her advice whenever I could use it.’  
Ron furrowed his eyebrows. 'Why do you think he prevented you from seeing her? You have been a family friend for years, he had been under fire for arrangements with your father for some time now, what changed?'  
'He had always been civil towards me, but we all have our limits.' He raised his copy of the Daily Prophet. 'What got to his head is the same thing that has poisoned the people who have been camping by my mother's geraniums.'  
'Those people's lives had been poisoned the moment your garbage father...' Ron's anger did not get a chance to manifest itself in full glory as Harry gripped his forearm, stopping him abruptly.  
‘What Ron meant to say...' Harry said looking at his friend, trying to calm him down. 'Was that perhaps Howard Rutledge could have, at any point of your last conversation, feel threatened?’ Harry continued, turning away slowly to face Malfoy.  
‘I fear that such cowardly people as himself have that tendency all the time, Potter.’ Malfoy’s piercing eyes turned straight to Harry’s. But then Harry and Ron looked at themselves, and the man quickly added: ‘Pardon me, I only wanted to suggest that it was the public and the journalists he feared.’  
‘Care to elaborate?’ Harry encouraged him.  
‘He had received numerous threats, which culminated in that statement. It wasn’t just the company losing its revenue, he became paranoid for his safety over some anonymous hate mail.’ Malfoy remarked scornfully.  
‘And he told you all that the day he wanted to cut the ties?’ Ron asked.  
‘His wife told me that.’ Malfoy explained. ‘My family has been investing in their distilleries for generations, and that's how he pays off... He would not write me back once he issued the statement, so I covertly met with Cécile instead. He had forbidden her from leaving the house unless it was for necessities 'for her own safety', had the housekeeper follow her around if she did indeed go out. She asked for patience and understanding given the situation, she truly is an angel of a woman.’ He snorted.  
‘What will happen with the fortune he had held for you now?’ Ron asked seemingly composed.  
‘Shouldn’t you ask a lawyer? I wouldn’t know.’ Draco sighed. ‘I imagine their solicitors having more pressing matters to work on now. And mind you, my father named several trustees for my benefit before the war. Even if I do get cut off from his share, it will have little effect on me.’  
'And are we to believe that you don't have a dozen of lawyers trying to lift that workload off of them this very second?' Ron said amused.  
The man put his cigarette out on an expensive looking ashtray. 'I couldn't care less about what you believe in, Weasley.'  
'I only believe what I see Malfoy, and trust me when I say that in no time we will be turning this place upside down for whatever cursed memorabilia you have kept after your precious dad.' Ron hissed. ‘What can you tell us about Clément Rutledge?’ Harry said a little too vigorously to divert their attention. Draco looked at him tardily and ran his hand through silver blonde hair.  
‘Anything, we are rather close. What do you want to know?’ He shrugged.  
‘What is his current location?’ Harry picked up.  
‘Well.’ He looked at his watch. ‘He said he would be coming in the morning, so I sure hope somewhere near.’  
‘He’s coming here now?’ Harry reiterated.  
‘Yes, Potter, that’s what I said.’ Malfoy leaned back in his armchair. ‘That said, we do have plans, so unless you have already managed to name him a suspect in this case too, please indulge me and interview him another time.’  
‘We will schedule to have him in as soon as we can.’ Harry assured him. ‘Where is he staying?’  
‘In one of my flats in central London.’ Malfoy grabbed a piece of paper and wrote the address down. Harry reached out his hand and noticed that Malfoy looked at it in hesitation, as if he did not want to touch it, but he eventually handed the parchment over. ‘He doesn’t like to stay in one place for too long, but that’s where he stays when he’s in London. Anything else?’  
'I'm done...' Ron started but was interrupted.  
'Actually.' Harry spoke. 'Has Marcus Flint tried to make contact with you?'  
If Harry wasn't looking for it, he would have easily missed a slight tremor in Malfoy's hand. He looked composed as he shook his head. 'Sorry to dissapoint you.'  
  
* * *  
  
‘Spoilt asshole doesn’t have an ounce of decency.’ Ron concluded their meeting twenty minutes later when they were walking away from the house. ‘It’s one thing to keep enough money to live a modest life until he can support himself, but he is enjoying his life better than the muggle Queen when so many live in poverty. Has he even worked... or done anything at all since Hogwarts?’  
'He's a certified potion maker, he passed his final ministry exam not long ago.' Harry answered the undoubtedly rhetorical question.  
Ron looked at him taken aback. 'No wonder, he's had plenty of practice brewing that god awful poison.'  
‘You think it was him.’ Harry said bluntly.  
'And for some unfathomable reason you don't.' Ron countered. ‘Why would people who sent the man hate mail follow through with their threats after he disconnected himself from Malfoy? Had they not achieved what they were going for?’ Ron looked at him funnily. ‘Picture it. He uses the floo network to plant the poison the evening prior and just waits for the poor man to drink it. He knows the family well, he would have known when the housekeeper is off, the victim's drink preferences, their daily routines.’  
‘What would he have gained from it?’ Harry asked. 'It's not like the money comes back to him. He's under fire and basically locked up here for god knows how long.  
‘Must be something.’ Ron shrugged. ‘Though a part of me hopes it was Flint instead. We have been after this fucker for long enough. About time we got him.’  
A tall, dark-haired man emerged from the gateway in front of them. He looked immaculate, his robes reminiscent of Malfoy’s. He looked roughly their age, but Harry did not remember him from Hogwarts.  
‘Gentlemen.’ He greeted them with a nod and passed them on his way to the door. His accent was foreign. Harry and Ron nodded back.  
'There he is.' Ron said casually as he looked at Clément Rutledge making his way through Narcissa Malfoy's geraniums.  
‘I’ll send a summon to the flat first thing when we’re back at the office.’ Harry suggested, turning his head away from the man’s rather well-built back.  
‘Good.’ Agreed Ron. ‘I want to search the house and that flat too; it belongs to the brat after all. Just need to press Wizengamont for a warrant.’  
‘Let’s.’ Harry nodded, and they disappeared into the air.


End file.
